Spoilsport
by Pajaros en la cabeza
Summary: The start of a series of tales about the haunts? A story? I don't know. For the moment, just a little fanfic. K : it includes one curse.


**_HAUNTED MANSION_** **IS A DISNEYLAND ATTRACTION, IT DOESN'T BELONG TO ME**

* * *

Mayor Jennings would wear the carpet out if he kept walking in circles like that. Ada looked at him and had to repress a smile. He was normally a very jolly man until he had to face the mansion issue. Then, his smile disappeared and became somber and nervous. No one in town had a problem with its inhabitants, all the contrary even, but its greatest representative did.

Ada didn't waste her breath telling him to calm down. He wouldn't. He hated that part of his job. He would have left it to her happily. But it was his duty and all he could do was try to make things quick.

Almost nine. They said midnight was the witching hour, but those spirits came out as soon as it got dark, and the master didn't want to make them to spend so much time at their office. A real gentleman, Ada had always said. A demon, was Jennings opinion.

"Nine."

The mayor turned his head to Ada. "What?"

"I said it's nine o'clock."

"Oh."

Those people were scrupulously punctual, so there was no time to lose. For three years the lights of the office were adjustable so that it wouldn't harm the master of the mansion but still allowed them to see. The mayor would have preferred to switch off the light completely so that he couldn't see that monster. Oh, well.

They heard a clop outside. As every night, every month, some curious people looked through the window to watch the phantasmagoric carriage which had just entered the square. There was no one in the town who hadn't seen it at least once in their lives, but it was still a sight worth seeing.

Mayor Jennings didn't have time to look through the window too. They knocked at the door. That stuff made him nervous.

"Come in!" he said in a tone of voice much louder than he wanted to.

The door opened and again he had to face that horrific pair.

At first sight there didn't seem there was something wrong with them apart from that strange glow of theirs, but a more careful exam could find that the tie the man who approached Ada was wearing was in fact a noose.

"Ada, my dear!"

"Mr. Host! So glad to see you! You look drop-dead gorgeous!" the secretary replied.

"Hahaha! Oh, you're getting good at puns at last!"

"After all these years! Goodnight, mister Gracey."

"Ada…" Mr. Gracey kissed her hand and smiled.

Then, he turned towards Mayor Jennings with a not less polite disposition.

"Goodnight, Mister Jennings."

"Hmph. Night." Was the mayor's response. "Sit down, please."

As usual, Mr. Gracey sat while the Ghost Host stood behind him. Jennings would have offered them a drink but he knew perfectly they couldn't consume a thing; all except that brew they made at the graveyard whose smoke and disgusting smell filled the air for hours. Witchery…

"Well…" began to say, but he didn't continue.

"We have studied your proposal, Mr. Mayor," Mr. Gracey said. "And I regret to say that we have to reject it."

"So," the mayor frowned, "you're not going to pay."

"We find ourselves in a quite peculiar legal situation, as you know. Laws cannot be applied to the dead. They have been written for the living. After our demise, we cease to have fiscal obligations and any kind of duties and rights too. It is the end of our existence."

"However," Jennings interrupted him with a not very pleased face, "that hasn't been an impediment for you to take over the mansion."

"It was mine and I never left it. In any case, it is property of my descendants, and since they haven't sold it nor made use of it…"

"I don't think that's a valid argument."

Ghost Host's lips curved in a side smile. What was the joke?

"Mister Jennings…" Master Gracey dragged his chair a bit closer to the desk to speak in a lower tone. "I am a decent man and I have no problem paying the taxes, even though I had no obligation to do it when I was alive and I still don't have to. Our first thought was to accept. Even though I am dead, I still have a vast fortune. Then we remembered a crucial detail you seem to have forgotten."

"Yeah? What?"

"That thanks to us this is a prosperous town."

It looked as if someone had slapped Mayor Jennings.

"Please, don't misinterpret my words. I am not saying in any way that you are incompetent. I truly admire your dedication and good will. But we both know how many tourists our legend attracts. All the money the town earns thanks to those visitors. And we have never seen a penny. All we get from those visitors are screams, flashes, deteriorations and vandalism. If I recall correctly, the town council has never taken care of those."

"Well…Your haunts also cost money to the taxpayers! They caused car accidents and heart attacks!"

"You know well that we do not tolerate that kind of behavior and the mischievous spirits who cause it are always punished."

"Of fucking course…"

Ada frowned. Be patient, she told him with a stare, but the mayor ignored her. Good thing that the master didn't seem annoyed. He was the one who was patient.

"I swear on my immortal soul and everything sacred to me that I will never allow my guests to hurt the living." He assured with such security Ghost Host's smile widened. "However, I cannot assure the security of those who choose not to follow the simple rules of courtesy and decency."

Mayor Jennings stood up, his black skin turning red. The ghosts didn't move. Even though Ghost Host, as always, was ready for anything, his master remained calm, almost indifferent.

"Sit down, Mister Jennings. I didn't wish to offend you. I just wanted to make clear the limit of my responsibilities."

Mister Jennings still didn't move.

"We will not pay, sir…For the moment. But be sure you can always count on us for everything else you may need."

Silence.

"…If you don't want to discuss any other matter…"

"No. You can leave now." Mister Jennings muttered.

"Very well. Until November, then. Good night, mister. Good night, Ada."

Giving them a last nod, Master Gracey and Ghost Host vanished, as if they had never been there. That would give the mayor freedom to protest and insult them as much as he wanted.

"I hate to admit that I prefer Mrs. Baudelaire." Ghost Host whispered.

"He's not a bad man." Master Gracey sighed. "He's just resentful."

"After all these years?"

"You know very well that certain feelings never die."

Ghost Host nodded. They both stepped into the carriage and as soon as the door closed, the coachman, just a cape and a top hat, made the skeleton horses move.

"His son Mark is just like him. Their resemblance is incredible. But Mark's visits have been much more fortunate, I dare to say." Ghost Host commented.

"The boy had the good sense not to disturb the wrong ghost. So, he is still visiting us?"

"Oh, yes. I do believe he spends more time with us than with his living friends."

"I suppose his father has no idea."

"He told me once that he had a cover."

"Hm."

"Are you alright with that, master?"

"Young Mark is very welcome to come with us every time he wants as long as he behaves, like everybody else. The doors are also open for his father. My only concern is that the mayor finds out and puts us into trouble."

Ghost Host tightened his noose with a hum. People around them were getting ready to end their day, tired; unlike the haunts, who now were free to rise from their tombs and came out to have fun. Master Gracey only hoped they didn't have too much fun.

"Please tell Little Leota I do not wish to be disturbed tonight. I have…unfinished business to take care of."

Ghost Host imagined that it was not an administrative issue, but one of his blue nights again, but he was kind enough to nod. "Of course, master."

They got pretty quickly to New Orleans Square–ghostly horses were indeed tireless–; once could actually hear the mayhem from a good distance. It would have been useless to tell them to be quieter, because those were the wildest creatures on Earth. The opera singers had their nightly competition. The orchestra was already playing such strange melodies it almost seemed each of it members was improvising on its own. The ghost-werewolf howled at the moon and some looney spirits howled with him.

There were some mortals in there. As he stepped out of the carriage, Master Gracey could hear their prodigiously loud screams inside the house, and some of them walked around the graveyard. Some fascinated and others, accustomed to the spirits, sat with them to play cards or chatter. Was Mr. Jennings' son that tall boy who was laughing with Maddy? Anyway, he walked in and wasn't seen or heard of for the rest of the night.

Ghost Host was on his way to the mansion too when he saw the hitchhikers sat on the curbside, talking in a quite suspicious way.

"I do hope you're not plotting something."

The trio would have jumped out of their skin if they had had it. Ezra quickly stood up and removed his hat.

"Nay, Host, we're just enjoying this nice breeze outside, that's all." He said.

"Yeah, yeah, that's all. The breeze!" Phineas nodded with energy.

"Hm." Ghost Host frowned with a smile. "Good to know. Because the master isn't pleased with your behavior, and you wouldn't like being locked inside your graves, huh?"

"No, no. Sure not!" Ezra replied fast. "We'll behave like gentlemen."

Gus nodded and gave the Host a wide smile. He gazed at each of them for long, enjoying making them nervous, until he grinned.

"Very well. Good night then, gentlemen."

When he disappeared, the hitchhiking ghosts let out a relieved sigh.

"Dear God! I hate that man!" Ezra exclaimed.

"He's sure good at his job! So, we're still…?"

"Of course. Look! There comes one!"

They could see the lights of a car in the distance, not too far away. The nosy host was gone, it was their chance. No one would ruin their fun.


End file.
